


Too Long to Wait: The Snowflake Cloak

by claudia603



Series: Too Long to Wait [36]
Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Fluff, Interspecies, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-21
Updated: 2010-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:51:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudia603/pseuds/claudia603
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellohir has a pair of shears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Long to Wait: The Snowflake Cloak

The birds had only just started to chatter and sing, and the predawn sky was still dark slate gray with only the barest hint of pink and orange reflected on the distant Anduin.

Frodo, dressed only in his breeches and night shirt, yawned for the upteenth time. He gathered Aragorn's voluminous royal blue cloak, made of the richest velvet, only worn when Aragorn wished to give a stern and regal impression, such as while in council with ambassadors from other countries. For that is why Aragorn was up so early on this particular morning. The envoy from Haradwaith had arrived, ready to parley over a tense land situation. Always Gondor lay on the edge of war with Harad, and the past month had been particularly harrowing. Faramir had reported multiple skirmishes in South Ithilien. The talks today would be tense, and Aragorn was already in a foul temper.

Frodo peered down at Aragorn's cloak in his hands. Something did not look right. "What in the world?" He sank to his knees and plucked at the soft material, growing more and more puzzled. There were jagged holes cut into odd shapes all over the cloak. He did not remember any of Aragorn's cloaks having such an odd design.

"Frodo!" Aragorn's impatient voice came from their chamber. "Where is my cloak?"

Frodo scrambled to gather the bulky cloak in his arms again. He jumped to his feet and returned to his and Aragorn's chamber. There he found Aragorn with a surly frown struggling to secure his belt around his waist.

"This is highly unusual," Frodo said.

Aragorn was not in the mood for casual conversation. With a grunt, he snatched the cloak from Frodo.

"Oh, that's nice," Frodo said under his breath with a huff and crossed his arms.

But Aragorn was not listening. As the rich blue fabric unfurled before him, his expression turned from irritation to horror. He looked at Frodo. "What is this? What have you done to my cloak?"

"Done to your cloak?" Frodo said in disbelief. "I've done nothing. I had wondered if it was some new fashion of Gondor that I did not know about."

"Don't be absurd." Aragorn's eyes had darkened. "Someone has been at my cloak with shears." He paused, and his gaze met Frodo's. He began to stride toward Ellohir's bedroom. "Ellohir!"

Frodo jumped in front of him, grabbing the leather gauntlet on Aragorn's lower right arm. "Don't wake him now. It's too early."

Aragorn pulled his arm out of Frodo's grasp with rude abruptness. "I must. This sort of foolishness cannot be tolerated." He bellowed, "Ellohir!"

Frodo followed after him, speaking under his breath, "You are not the one who has to be with him all day when he's been awakened prematurely. Talk to him when you return, but not now!"

Aragorn ignored Frodo and banged on Ellohir's door. "Wake up, my son!"

From Ellohir's bedroom came the sound of incoherent whining.

"Ellohir, it's time to wake up!" Aragorn said sharply, clapping his hands.

"Oh, now you've gone and done it," Frodo said under his breath. "Thank you, kindly."

Aragorn whirled toward Frodo. "Would you like to take my place with the leaders of Haradwaith instead?"

Frodo laughed a little, but it was not a merry laugh. He was getting quite irritated with Aragorn's foul mood. "You do not have to be such a bear, Aragorn. If you would like me to parley with the good men of Harad, I will be happy to do so in your place."

"Let me sleep," Ellohir whined.

"That was a jest," Aragorn said. "You do not have diplomatic experience." He turned to Ellohir. "Did you take shears to my cloak, Ellohir?"

Ellohir whimpered and buried his head under his pillow.

"No diplomatic experience, say you?" Frodo said. His irritation at the one he loved best in the world erupted in a rush of angry words. "How then do you suppose I dealt with Faramir and his men in Ithilien? Do you know that they were commanded to slay anyone found in Ithilien at that time?"

Aragorn chuckled. Confound it all, foul mood or not, he was enjoying Frodo's irritation. "Faramir wouldn't have slain two harmless Halflings without good reason. His heart is too noble."

"You were not there," Frodo said, practically sputtering. "He practically accused me of having something to do with Boromir's death. His men had their hands on their swords and arrows, ready for his command. It was only my words that saved Samwise and I."

"Humph," Aragorn said. Then his voice became stern. "Ellohir, wake up!"

Ellohir looked up from under his pillow with a scowl. "Leave me alone!"

Aragorn held the damaged cloak in front of him. "Did you cut my cloak with your shears?"

Ellohir's bleary eyes focused in confusion at both of his parents, then at the cloak. He looked down in guilt. "Yes."

"Why did you do that?" Frodo asked. "This was Aragorn's good cloak."

"Because," Ellohir said with utmost sincerity in his blue eyes. He no longer looked guilty but rather full of passion for what he was about to reveal. His voice dropped to a whisper. "The shears are full of Elvish magic."

"Nonsense," Aragorn said brusquely. "Now why did you destroy my cloak? No falsehoods."

"I didn't," Ellohir said, looking very indignant. Tears sprang to his eyes. "I was making a design. Those shears are Elvish magic. They can cut through anything at all. I made snowflakes for you."

Frodo coughed and cleared his throat, trying to keep from laughing at Aragorn's distress.

Even if he deserves it.

"Alia taught me how to make Elvish snowflakes," Ellohir said. "But just out of parchment. That's boring. I wanted to make them out of something beautiful."

Frodo touched Aragorn's cloak. "They do have a snowflake design to them. Where are the shears, Ellohir?"

Ellohir pointed to the table near his boat-shaped bed. Frodo put them in his breeches pocket.

Aragorn shook his head. "I cannot wear this cloak down to my council. Ellohir, you will have to be punished."

"No," Ellohir said. "I'm sorry!" He started to cry. "I was just making it beautiful!"

"You are to remain in your room all day today," Aragorn said sternly.

He closed the door to Ellohir's room, guiding Frodo away. "And none of your hobbity permissiveness in my absence. Be firm." The sound of Ellohir's wails became muffled behind the door.

Frodo clutched Aragorn's shirt. "Let me go in your stead. You stay here and play dungeon guard to your son."

"No." Aragorn shook his head. "This council will be unpleasant, and it will likely go nowhere."

"Which is precisely why I should go in your stead. Come now, you have nothing to lose."

"You truly want to go in my stead and parley with harsh people who are not really interested in peace?"

"They must be somewhat interested or they would not have arrived. And yes, I'd like to try it. You say it is desperate anyway, so why not try something completely unexpected?"

"If that is truly what you want, then why not? I'll stay here with Ellohir."

Frodo jumped to his feet eagerly. He dressed in one of his very best outfits. He wore his satin gray tunic over a crisp white cotton shirt. He then donned his own richly colored cloak in a deep wine red. He stood in front of the mirror. He looked quite handsome and regal, if he did say so himself.

Aragorn fell to one knee in front of him and took his cheeks in his hands. "Now, you are a ravishing hobbit. Do not let those Haradrim spirit you away into the desert." He kissed Frodo, warm and slow. When he pulled back, he leaned his brow against Frodo's. "I'm sorry," he said. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," Frodo said

"Good luck then."

Aragorn's personal guards were stunned to learn that their king would not be speaking to the ambassadors of Harad but rather the Halfling would. Frodo offered no explanation and it was not their place to question their king or Frodo.

One of the guards led Frodo to the chamber inside which the envoy from Harad waited. The men in their brightly colored garb stared at Frodo in wonder and confusion.

"Where is your king?" one finally asked.

"The King begs his pardon," Frodo said in a clear voice. "But there was an urgent matter he had to attend to. He has sent me in his place. Frodo Baggins is my name. I am a Halfling of the Shire."

The men just looked at each other.

Frodo clapped. "One thing that is a must if we're to continue is to have some real food. Negotiating is hungry work, is it not?"

The men again seemed far too bewildered to respond. The truth of the matter was that while they were courteous on the outside, the three of them had come to Gondor as part of an intricate plot to assassinate King Elessar. They did not know who this Halfling was or why he had been sent in the King's place, but they could only imagine that somehow the King had found out about the plot. One of the men was so uncomfortable that he kept tugging at his collar and looking at the door. None of them would touch the food that was brought in even after watching the Halfling devour his share with appalling voracity.

"Is it too warm for you in here?" Frodo asked with real concern, wiping his fingers of the last crumbs of a seedcake. "Shall we open a window?"

"Oh, no, is not necessary." The man fingered the hilt of his knife that was stuck deep in his boot. He had been ready to use it against King Elessar. There was no use in slaying this Halfling, who was probably expendable to the King. He folded his hands on the table. "Let us begin discussions." Now he would have to act as though he truly had come to negotiate about lands.

"What seems to be the trouble?" Frodo asked. He wondered how Aragorn was faring with Ellohir. Frodo concluded that he had the easier job.

"The trouble, Master Halfling-"

"Frodo, call me Frodo."

"Master Frodo," the man said. "is that your king wants to command an area that was formerly under our rule. This rule was taken away from us as punishment for serving Sauron. It is not our fault. Sauron fell fifteen years ago. We should not keep facing punishment for what our fathers and older brothers did."

"No, that does not quite seem fair, does it?" Frodo agreed.

As the Haradrim went on about the unfair way they perceived they were being treated, Frodo played with the handles of the shears in his pocket and thought that Aragorn was right after all. He had no diplomacy skills against so much injustice and hurt. But he could listen, and listen he did.

 

The Captain of the Guard hurried to Aragorn's living quarters. From inside, he heard the wailing of a child. That normally sweet half-Halfling child was throwing a tantrum. He knocked.

Aragorn pulled the door open with a curt, "Yes?" Ellohir lay on the floor pulling on Aragorn's leg, crying at the top of his lungs. His face was pink with rage and tears spilled over his face. The child was the size of a two-year-old, but he had to be at least five by now. No child that age should be throwing such a fit. The Captain knew that if it was his own son, that there would be blisters on his backside before he would be allowed to cry like that. But it was certainly not his place to criticize the King or the Halfling's childrearing methods.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, my lord," he said, bowing. Ellohir stomped his oversized feet on the floor. The Captain did think that he might see hairs on his feet.

"Ellohir, enough!" Aragorn shouted.

"I understand that you sent Frodo down to negotiate with the envoy from Harad." The Captain had to choose his words diplomatically. The thread between diplomacy and war was so thin with Harad. The King not meeting with the envoy himself must have been like a slap in the face to that group.

"Yes, that is correct."

"Do you suppose this is wise, my lord?"

"Frodo has as much ability as I in such matters. It is not your place to question."

Ellohir stopped crying long enough to look up, listening to what they said about Frodo.

"Of course not, my lord," the Captain said with a brief bow.

Aragorn leaned in to speak to him so that Ellohir could not hear. "Go now and guard his life as you would mine."

"Yes, my lord," the Captain said with another bow. And he would. He harbored great affection for Frodo.

After the Captain of the Guard left them, Aragorn closed the door. He could not believe that it was not yet noon.

"When's Frodo coming back?" Ellohir asked after the Captain left. He bounced a ball again and again.

"Whenever he makes peace with the men of Harad. Balls are for outside, Ellohir. Put it away."

"When will Frodo be done?"

bounce, bounce

"Maybe never," Aragorn said with a sigh. It certainly seemed so.

"I want to go outside," Ellohir said.

"You know that you cannot go outside," Aragorn said. He had more respect for the guards that worked deep down in the dungeon than ever before.

Ellohir bounced the ball hard as he spoke each word with a scowl on his face. "I. want. to. go. outside."

Another knock on the door sent Aragorn's temper over the edge. He yanked the door open. "What do you want?"

Another guard stood there, looking very harried. "My lord, I've just gotten word that the envoy here from Harad was sent to assassinate you. We have one of their men in custody. A conversation was overheard in the lower levels of the city. Several have been arrested already."

Aragorn felt numb inside. He had been a fool. In the name of banter and losing his temper over a cloak, he had sent Frodo in to speak with dangerous assassins.

"Your job right now is to watch my son," Aragorn said. The guard nodded. As if in afterthought, Aragorn added, "He does not go outside."

"Yes, my lord."

Aragorn stormed down the stairs and gathered a small troop of guards, including the Captain of the Guard who had been listening just outside the door of the council chamber for any sign of trouble. If anything happened to Frodo, he would make these men from Harad suffer. He put his hand in position to knock on the council chamber door. He heard raucous laughter inside. He looked at his guards in puzzlement. He heard Frodo's voice, eager and happy, going on and on about something, although he could not pick out the words. He thought he heard Shire and mushrooms and snow.

Aragorn knocked.

"Who is it?" Frodo called.

"King Elessar."

"Ah, he comes at last," Aragorn heard Frodo say to the others.

Aragorn walked into the strangest scene.

The Haradrim and Frodo were cutting snowflakes out of pieces of gold studded cloth. Aragorn was so taken aback by the smiles on the faces of the hardened assassins and Frodo's easy banter with them, and could do nothing but stare for a moment.

"My lord?" the Captain of the Guard finally said. "We await your orders."

Aragorn nodded. "Frodo, please step aside."

Frodo met his gaze and he must have seen something grave and urgent there. He obeyed right away and without protest, backing into a corner. The guards then approached the Haradrim and bound their hands. They did not fight as they were hauled deep down into the dungeon. They seemed to resign to their fate as if they had expected it all along.

"Are you well?" Aragorn asked Frodo.

"Am I well?" Frodo said, breathless with disbelief at what had just occurred. "I am. But what just happened?"

"A plot," Aragorn said, leaning heavily against the table, feeling suddenly terribly weary.

"To kill you?" Frodo asked in horror.

"Yes. I was a fool to let you do this. To let you come in here."

"Don't be foolish, Aragorn. I was not in any danger at all. You saw them. They were quite enjoying the magical Elvish shears."

Aragorn grasped Frodo's chin. Sometimes Frodo's hobbity need for levity even in the most serious situations vexed him terribly. "Do you not understand? If any of them had gotten even a whiff of who you were, you would be dead now."

Frodo's smile faded and his eyes filled with love. He put his hands over Aragorn's hands. "But they didn't, dear Aragorn, and by my coming here, it saved your life."

"I could have defended myself."

"And who says I couldn't have defended myself?" Frodo said pushing Aragorn's hands off of his face and crossing his arms. "Somehow I made it all the way across Mordor without your help."

Aragorn laughed a little. "There was the matter of the battle at the Black Gate."

"Harumph."

 

***

"I brought back your magical Elvish shears," Frodo said to Ellohir once they arrived back at their living quarters. "You are right. They are quite magical."

"How was he?" Aragorn asked the guard.

"A pleasure, my lord," the guard said, but the shifting of his eyes betrayed him. "He lives life with great zest." He took his leave, clearly glad to be out of childcare duty.

"Yay!" Ellohir bounced around. "Did the magical Elvish shears work?"

"In some ways," Frodo said, looking sideways at Aragorn.

Aragorn crossed his arms and settled on the sofa, pulling Frodo beside him. "Just how did it go when you weren't making snowflakes with enemies of Gondor?"

"I'm afraid we did not get very far with serious negotiation," Frodo said, shame-faced. "But at least I know why now." Frodo squeezed Aragorn back as if he would never let go of him.

Ellohir grabbed Aragorn's snowflake cloak and threw it on Aragorn's lap like a blanket. He then jumped on the sofa and burrowed against Frodo. Soon all three were snuggled under the blanket-cloak.


End file.
